


The Magical Peter Long

by thelastpen



Category: Glee
Genre: Biting, Crossdressing, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Glee Femslash Fic Exchange, Locker Room, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mirrors, Restraints, Semi-Public Sex, Strap-Ons, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastpen/pseuds/thelastpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was "Rachel/Quinn: Sweaty Workout/Training Sex". I couldn't really figure out a way to work it since, tbh, it's not really something I'm into, so I modified it a little. I hope this works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Magical Peter Long

She wasn't. Not really, anyway.

Rachel thought this every time she looked in the bathroom mirror and fitted the latex prosthetics to her face. Every time she brushed the burnt cork over her cheeks, carefully shadowing the line of her jaw. Every time she slicked her hair back, gathering the long locks into a tight ponytail at the base of her neck.

She wasn't.

The tight band across her chest, edges carefully held down with duct tape, made the argument a little more difficult, but she insisted upon it as she pulled the compression tank top in place. Because it was true. She _wasn't_. The stupid nickname applied to her by malicious children wasn't accurate. At least, not in the manner they intended it.

She was a _performer_. When she took the stage in this role she was more than just _Rachel Berry_. She could lose herself in the character, let it take over with every layer she applied to her face and body. She could step back as she stepped into the harness, tightening it about her hips, fitting the base in place against her and tugging up the boxer-briefs fitting it inside.

It was a process she went through every time. Creating the character from her skin out as she buttoned the long shirt with it's cuffed sleeves, leaving the top couple buttons undone to show the white tank below. She rolled her shoulders, settling it comfortably over her lean muscles before pulling the loose cargoes on, buckling the web belt laced through the loops about her hips to hold them up. It was all about becoming someone else, she reminded herself as she strapped the wide-banded gold watch to her wrist. About giving herself so completely into a role - about being the _consummate_ actor - that it was completely believable, not about wanting to be something she wasn't.

Those were the thoughts roaming through her mind as she laced and tied the special black boots that bore a distinct appearance to men's work boots and added a good three inches to her height onto her feet. Finishing, she sat back and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, holding it a moment and letting it out slowly. When she opened them again, Rachel Berry stepped completely back behind the character.

Peter Long ran a hand over his slicked back hair with a confident smirk. "Looking good, Pete." His voice came out a deeper register than usually passed through those lips, his posture indicated casual confidence.

Behind his eyes, Rachel thrilled at feeling of power as she let the masculine persona take the fore. It wasn't about not being a woman - she _enjoyed_ being female and was completely happy about that quirk of genetics. She appreciated and enjoyed the female form. But she couldn't deny how much she enjoyed the power and control inherent in the masculine appearance she could assume when she took on the role of Peter Long, Drag King either.

Now if only he hadn't had to prepare at _school_ , but brights lights of the stage waited for no one. Glee had ran long. If it wasn't for Sue storming in demanding her Cheerios, Rachel wasn't sure Mr. Schue ever would have realized how late it was. As it was, she was just grateful that Sue was busy berating the Cheerios out on the field so she had a chance to change into Peter in the locker room in peace.

Or at least, she _thought_ she did.

* * *

Quinn stormed into the locker room, hot, tired, drenched with sweat and limping from the bruise on her calf that had Sue instruct her - vitriolically - to take her "sloppy baby ass" off her field and get ice on it. She had _never_ had to be sent off the field before! She was frustrated, aching, sweaty and not at all in the mood to put up with anything.

She stormed over to the sinks and threw one on, splashing the cold water over her face in an attempt to cool off. The adrenaline from the bad throw - and nearly bad catch - that left her with a handprint bruised into her calf still coursed through her body and it was like she suddenly had too much energy and nothing to do with it. She growled softly in frustration at not being able to continue the routine with the others because of her _stupid_ injury and stuck her head under the faucet to try and cool down.

The sound of a heavy stride - much too heavy for the light tread of any of the other members of the squad caught her attention. She jerked her head out from under the spray of water, looking around. "Who's there?"

Nothing caught her attention in the brightly lit locker room at first. She pushed away from the sinks, moving to look around the first row of lockers. That's when she heard it again - the heavy booted tread, coming around the far side of the lockers. She scolded herself for the frisson of fear that curled down her spine - she was in _school_ in the _brightly-lit_ locker room, being afraid was not just _stupid_ it was _cowardly_ and Quinn Fabray was _not_ a coward.

"Are you going to hide like some sick little creep all day? Show yourself!"

* * *

Quinn. Of _course_ it was Quinn. It couldn't _possibly_ be any of the other girls that she could bluff her way out of the situation - or rather possibly _flirt_ her way out as Peter.

But no, it had to be _Quinn_. Perfect, blonde, president of the _Celibacy Club_ Quinn freaking Fabray. Rachel could almost scream with frustration. But that wouldn't be very manly and Peter Long was _definitely_ manly. He didn't scream with frustration, didn't hide behind lockers. He _confronted_ things. In his own special fashion.

So instead of screaming or running away, she found herself pacing out from behind the lockers with a masculine swagger, leaning one shoulder against the lockers, crossing her booted feet at the ankle and tucking her thumbs under her belt. She could feel Peter curling her lips in a cocky smirk as he raked his eyes over the cheerleader's sweat covered body, sucking on his teeth and letting out a soft chuckle. Rachel liked to state that while sexuality was a fluid thing, she was quite straight - in her stage male personae as well. It was a handy mask to hide behind for a girl who wasn't at all ready to admit she was more like her fathers than she wanted to believe.

"So... who might you be, pretty girl?" Inside, Rachel was laughing hysterically at saying things like _that_ to _Quinn Fabray_ , but Peter felt no such computations. "A cheerleader, that's obvious, and may I just say _damn_ you look hot?"

Quinn snorted, crossing her arms over her chest, looking him over in turn. Around her height - at least she found herself eye to eye with him - olive complexion that reminded her slightly of Puckerman, cocky grin that _definitely_ did, and - her eyes darted back up to his amused chocolate ones with a slight blush - a noticeable bulge in the crotch of his cargoes. "Quinn Fabray as if it is _any_ of your business. What are you doing in the _girl's_ locker room, perv?"

Peter only chuckled, pushing off the lockers with a lazy shrug and slowly advancing on the girl who refused to back away. Inside, Rachel cheered. She didn't recognize her! Quinn had overlooked the Jewish girl that chased after her boyfriend inside the obnoxiously heterosexual Peter. If she'd been less involved in her character, she'd have actually hopped up and down clapping her hands gleefully. "Me? I'm just looking around. Trying to find something," he smirked, stepping into the cheerleaders space and running a finger down the line of her jaw, " _interesting_ to do."

Quinn snorted, patently ignoring the blush spreading across her pale cheeks, "You're not going to find it in the girl's locker room."

Peter leaned in closer and closer until his breath was hot over the damn skin of her cheek, whisper soft over her ear as he spoke, "Are you sure about that, _Quinn_?" With the last word he stepped back and let Rachel's soft voice breath her name.

Quinn's eyes widened and she seemed to pale, "Wha... Who _are_ you?"

Rachel was trembling with nerves, but Peter was just amused, "They call me Peter. Peter _Long_ , and I _deserve_ my name," He tugged his belt, pressing the loose cargoes a bit closer to his package with a suggestive leer, "if you know what I mean. Wanna see?"

"Disgusting." Quinn scowled, the momentary unnervedness seeming as if it had never even existed, "I'm going to the weight room. You'll leave me alone _if_ you know what's good for you."

With that she turned on her heel and stalked off through the door towards the weight room. Peter just smirked while Rachel chuckled behind his eyes and shook her head with amusement. "Whoever said I knew what was good for me, Quinn?"

There it was again. Quinn hesitated a moment confused at what sounded _distinctly_ like Rachel's voice coming from that strange _man_. She shook her head, continuing into the weight room, picking a treadmill and turning it on, starting to run - pushing the entire confusing issue with the man out of her head.

Rachel knew she should go. She knew she had the perfect opportunity with Quinn walking away. She knew it. Hell, _Peter_ knew it. She was set to walk off - already reaching for her bag - when she remembered just how Quinn had looked.

She remembered the sheen of sweat coating her pale skin under the harsh florescent lights. The way her hair slicked down against her head, made darker with moisture. The way her skin danced as her muscles tensed and quivered in micro-shivers from the chilly A/C.

Remembered the way her eyes had lingered ever so slightly at the crotch of her cargoes. The way she'd blushed when she looked away. The way she'd paled at the sound of _Rachel's_ voice instead of Peter's. The hesitation when Rachel had spoken again.

She let her bag slip from her fingers with a sly grin and turned towards the weight room. Peter sat back with a smirk, not commenting - characters never did - as she swaggered towards the other room. Rachel was nothing if not a consummate actor - she could behave in a distinctly male fashion even if she wasn't carrying the character with her. She wanted to see just how far she could take this with the beautiful cheerleader.

* * *

When she got into the room, Quinn was pounding away on the treadmill, eyes closed, breathing hard, arms working at her sides instead of holding on to the side rails. Sweat glistened on her brow, trickling down the sides of her face only to be wiped away with her arm periodically. Rachel stood by the door, leaning against the wall and watching her run with a tiny smile, her lower lip caught between her lip in a manner decided unmanly but definitely Rachel.

She pushed off the wall and made her way quietly over to the treadmill Quinn was running on. Reaching up, she curled her fingers around the rear bar of the side rails, getting a good grip. Once she had it, she couldn't help taking a moment to admire the way the cheerleader's pale thighs flashed in and out of visibility through the pleats for her skirt. The way her ass flexed making the skirt bounce in a delightful fashion as she ran. The heady musk that was distinctly Quinn filling Rachel's flared nostrils as she breathed deep behind her.

"Honestly, Quinn, I don't know what you're thinking running with a bruise like that on your calf. You really should put ice on it to avoid serious injury." She spoke with her own voice and Quinn's eyes flew open, looking in the mirror for Rachel, but seeing only Peter standing there with his cocky Puck-like smirk.

She stumbled, losing her pace, the speed of the treadmill's belt sending her crashing back into Rachel, who only stayed upright thanks to her grip on the side rails. Quinn could feel the hard bulge in Peter's cargoes pressing against her ass as she squirmed trying to get away. He just laughed, wrapping his oddly lithe arms around her body just under her breasts and holding her tight to the flat planes of his chest.

"Hey there, sexy. Fancy running into you like this." It felt like he was actively _pressing_ that disgusting bulge up against her, grinding into her ass and she shoved away in disgust as soon as she could get her footing.

"Ugh! You _disgust_ me! You're nothing but a nasty perv! Get your hands _off_ me and everything _else_ too, _Peter_!"

She'd barely gotten two steps when she heard it again. Rachel's voice.

"What about me? Do I disgust you, Quinn?" This time Quinn turned fast enough to see the words coming through the confident smirk on Peter's lips, "I mean, you do draw pornographic pictures of me in the restrooms. The _girls'_ restrooms, I might add."

"What are you? Some kind of disgusting impersonator?" Quinn's perfect features twisted up in disgust, "Have you been stalking Rachel or something? You really are sick."

"Me?" Rachel didn't bother using Peter's voice any more, smiling slyly at Quinn and feeling far more confident than she usually did in their encounters because of how off-balance the cheerleader was in that moment, "I can hardly stalk my _self_ , Quinn. Honestly, you've done far more stalking than I ever have." A smirk curled the corner of her lip, "Something you want to admit, Quinn? Do you have a _reason_ for knowing such intimate details about my body, _Quinn_?"

Quinn's eyes widened and she shook her head, "You are _not_ Rachel. You're a nasty perv who thinks this is some twisted version of _Single, White Female_ but you are _not_ her!"

Rachel advanced towards Quinn, the cheerleader backing up in front of her until she stumbled, sitting awkwardly on a weight bench. "Are you so sure about that, Quinn? I mean, you're the one who started that awful nickname being used for me."

"W-what are you talking about? I don't even _know_ you..." Quinn was nervous, unsettled. She wasn't used to be put into the weaker position, not sure how to lash out to hurt this unknown person who seemed to be _convinced_ he was Rachel. "You're not Rachel! Rachel's a girl, y-you're," her eyes flashed down to the bulge almost at face level, flashing away almost as fast, but not fast enough to keep the blush from spreading across her cheeks, " _not_."

Rachel smirked, astonishing herself with her boldness as she reached down and stroked the bulge in her pants, "I'm not, am I? You think I'm a girl? That's... _surprising_ considering your _artwork_." Her tongue darted out, stroking over her lips as she watched Quinn's hazel eyes dart almost helplessly down to where her hand is gliding over the bulge. "Should I show you, Quinn? You've _obviously_ fantasized about it..."

"T-that's disgusting..." Quinn tried for firm, but the best she could get was breathily distracted as she tried to keep from looking at the man's surprisingly small - she didn't want to admit it was _familiar_ \- hand stroking himself through his pants almost directly in front of her face. She didn't want to think about the blush burning her cheeks or the twinge of curiosity in the back of her mind.

"You keep saying that, but I don't see you leaving, Quinn." Now that she'd gone this far, Rachel didn't seem bothered going further, Quinn's reaction's stimulating her, her chocolate gaze burning intensely into the blonde never glancing away. Her nostrils flared, capturing the hot scent of sweat and the faint tinge of a scent that was uniquely _Quinn_ under the vanilla body spray. "I think maybe you _want_ to see it, Quinn." Her fingers slid to the zipper of her pants, sliding it down and slipping inside, "I think maybe you want to _touch_ it. _Lick_ it."

Quinn couldn't speak, couldn't look away from the small hand reaching into the boxer briefs just visible through the opening in the pants. She didn't know why she was still there. Didn't know why she wasn't running. All she could hear was _Rachel's_ voice saying things she never even would have _dreamed_ about _things_ she could barely even admit to _herself_ in the dark hours of the night that haunted her dreams.

Rachel's heart was racing despite her apparent confidence as she pulled the dildo out from where it'd been folded down into her underwear, stroking its length as if it were real, running her thumb over the molded head before sliding back down to fondle the balls hanging beneath it. "So, Quinn, what are you going to do? Here it is." She moved a bit closer, bringing the tip of the appendage closer to the unmoving blonde's full lips, "Are you going to kiss it? I can see your eyes begging for it."

Quinn couldn't move. She certainly couldn't look away, her eyes wide as she looked at the pale shaft being stroked in front of her. She'd never actually _seen_ one before, not even with Puck, who'd been more about getting in and getting done than playing - and she _knew_ what happened with _that_.

Her mouth opened slightly - whether to speak or doing something else, she'd never know. Rachel reached out and brushed over the back of Quinn's head and instead of talking, her lips parted and slipped around the head of the dildo. She didn't know what she was doing, wasn't thinking about it, just reacting.

Rachel nearly let out a squeak when she felt the cheerleader's hands come up and grip her ass, pulling her closer. Her eyes widened, surprised, breath catching in her throat as she looked down and saw those pale pink lips wrapped around the stiff appendage, that blonde head bobbing up and down in her crotch. Her hand slipped into blonde hair, tugging at the ponytail holder until it slipped free, leaving pale locks to flow free about her red and white uniformed shoulders, tanned hand tangled in them pulling her closer.

It was an intensely erotic sight. _Quinn Fabray_ , sitting on a weight bench, all but deep throating a strap-on attached to _her_. The feeling of her perfectly trimmed nails digging into her ass through her cargoes and underwear combined with the base of the dildo rubbing against her and the sight, soft swallowed almost-gagging wet sounds, and knowledge that she was being given _head_ by perfect _Quinn Fabray_ was almost enough to send Rachel crashing over the edge.

Instead she tightened her fingers, fisting the blonde hair in her hand and pulled her back, holding her tightly so she couldn't move. Quinn's neck arched as she forced her head back, forcing her to look up at the dark brown eyes staring down at her. Rachel's nostrils flared with arousal as she looked down into the blown pupils of hazel eyes, reaching up with her free hand she gripped that perfect chin, her fingers dark against porcelain clear skin.

"You don't think you're going to get off with just that, did you?" She stepped forward a leg on either side of the bench, forcing Quinn to release her hold on Rachel's ass and slap her hands back on the bench behind her to try and remain sitting upright, "You think that'll be enough? A little head? After all the _teasing_ and _tormenting_ you did to me? Honestly, Quinn, I thought you were smarter than that. I am going to take," she leaned in then, her lips brushing over the blonde's ear as she hissed, " _everything_."

As soon as that last word left her lips, she was pressing those lips against the firm softness of that pale column stretched underneath her, plying the delicate flesh with teeth and tongue, knowing she was leaving marks of her possession, but not caring as she could hear the soft whimpers and moans of the girl in her hands brushing her ears. She released Quinn's chin, letting her hand trail teasingly possessively down the line of her throat, brushing almost delicately over the exposed bumps of her collarbone. As her hand dipped lower, she cupped one breast through the heavy fabric of the cheerleading top and squeezed roughly, drawing a ragged gasp from the pink lips near her ear that made her smile. She could smell the heady musk of the sweaty girl beneath her, feel how her body tensed against hers and it made the sensations flowing through her curl deliciously in the pit of her stomach.

She released the breast she was fondling through the blonde's clothes, chuckling lowly at the desperate whimper of loss that vibrated Quinn's throat under her lips. Her hand trailed down over her abdomen, nails rasping harshly over the fabric. When she reached the waistband of the pleated skirt that so frustrated her, she didn't hesitate, pushing between the pleats to slide her hand between silken thighs, groaning at the moisture beginning to seep through the red spankies.

" _Fuck_ , you're just a dirty little slut, aren't you." Rachel's voice was thick with lust and Quinn's arms trembled from the effort of holding herself up, back bowing from the force of Rachel's hand in her hair pulling her back, "You're just so _wet_ for me. You love this, don't you. The thought of being _fucked_ in the weight room by some guy you don't even _know_ is just turning you on _so_ much, isn't it?" Her fingers slipped under the edge of spankies and the panties beneath them to slide through the silky wet warmth of the other girl's folds. Quinn gasped, her hips bucking slightly as Rachel's nimble fingers danced over her clit. "You're a such a _slut_ , Quinn. Aren't you?" She tightened her hand, "Answer me!"

"Y-yes... yes." Quinn's voice was thick with arousal and breathy.

"What are you? I didn't _hear_ you." Rachel gave her hair a tug, making the blonde gasp from the pain but her clit twitched under the fingers toying with it, making Rachel smirk.

"I... I'm a... I'm a slut. Oh _God_ , I'm just a filthy _slut_!"

Rachel sank her teeth into her throat just over the beating of her pulse, making her cry out as Rachel's fingers curled around the crotch of her panties and spankies and ripped them down to her knees. "That's right. You might be the head cheerleader, but you're not in charge here. You're just a fucking _slut_. I'm going to fuck you now, Quinn. I'm going to make you forget you were _ever_ with another person but me. I'm going to make you _dream_ of me, slut."

Before she even finished speaking, she reached down and lined the tip of the strap-on with Quinn's entrance and thrust into her with a flexing of her entire body. Quinn stiffened immediately with a shocked cry at the sudden violation of her body, her arms gave out, dropping her back to sprawl on the bench. Rachel grabbed her wrists and dragged them up to the bench's rack, "You had best hold on like your life depends on it. Don't you _dare_ let go until I tell you you can."

As soon as Quinn's long fingers curled around the black steel, Rachel started moving, pulling out and thrusting back in hard and forcefully enough to make the sound of their hips meeting sound like someone being slapped repeatedly, fast and hard. The wet sucking sounds of the dildo sliding in and out accompanied by the slap of skin against skin and the grunts, groans and harsh breath of the two participants were the only sounds filling the room, echoing softly from the red and white concrete block walls.

Quinn's knuckles were turning white from how fiercely she was gripping the rack, her gasps and moans at the feeling of being emptied and filled so quickly - tangling with the sound of _Rachel's_ soft grunts and groans as she panted past clenched teeth - growing louder until she was all but screaming, begging for more, arching into Rachel's touch. Rachel watched her face screwed up with need as she pounded her for a moment before shoving the cheerleading top roughly up and yanking her bra down so her breasts were caught somewhere between. She caught one pert mound in her hand, the other she plied with lips, teeth and tongue, leaving scattered purpling bite marks on the pale flesh as she made her way to the rosy nub at the peak.

What they were doing wasn't about love. It certainly wasn't romance. If someone had asked her right then, Rachel wouldn't have been able to say it was even about revenge. It was about power. It was about far more lust than she'd been aware she could direct towards another person. It was about desires whispered in the dark but never spoken in the light of day. It was the shame of wanting something everything and everyone told you you shouldn't and loving the adrenaline-filled rush of getting it anyway. It was the thin line between love and hate called passion. The fierce, knee-bowing passion of sweaty, urgent hookups in drunken clubs - two people connecting in the curious private/public darkness of the pounding music against rough brick walls - as faceless as they were breathless.

Not that Rachel was thinking about any of that.

She was thinking - for the first time in her life - how much she wished she really was the transsexual person the girl beneath her often accused her of being in that moment. She was wishing she knew what it felt like to be inside the blonde cheerleader, filling her, feeling her hot, silken walls clench around her member like a velvet glove. For the first time, she found herself actually _jealous_ of Noah and Finn - because they got to know that feeling.

And - maybe worst of all - she found herself wishing that all it would take was changing her clothes to be someone Quinn could want.

But she wasn't a man - well, she played on on stage, but that didn't count at the end of the day. She was just Rachel Berry. And after this freak occurrence ended, that was all she'd be again. Not "Peter Long". Certainly not Quinn Fabray's lover. Besides, Rachel told herself, I'm not gay. And even if she was, Quinn Fabray would never descend - or even _look_ \- far enough down the social ladder that separated them to even give her a second thought as a potential significant other.

It was all she could do to keep from crying as she felt the girl under her tense, shuttering into orgasm from the heavy pounding she'd received. Rachel watched her, sad brown eyes drinking in the sight of Quinn's face as the other girl came, eyes clenched shut, gasping through a wordless cry. She was intensely turned on, but she slowed her pace, eventually pulling out with a slick slurp as Quinn went almost bonelessly limp on the weight bench under her. She stood quickly, swinging her leg over the bench and turning away from the other girl, not willing to show the tears she couldn't stop anymore streaking her face.

"There." She threw the words back over her shoulder, trying to sound as harsh and masculine as possible not wanting the broken little girl who just realized she'd never get what she fantasied about in the darkest parts of the night to show, as she turned towards the door out of the weight room, awkwardly tucking the strap on back into her pants, "I got what I came for. Thanks, _slut_."

Quinn released the bars with a soft gasp - her hands having nearly locked in place on the black steel with the force of her grip - and shifted so she was half sitting up, propped up by her elbows. Her hair was disheveled, her uniform top and skirt in disarray exposing her body, but she didn't move to fix either. Her red spankies and panties had given at a side seam at some point, dangling uselessly about one thigh. Her chest heaved as she fought to calm her erratic breathing. Her perfect face was flushed with spent passion and furrowed with confusion as she looked at the back of the person who'd just been the source of her dishevelment and one of the most intense orgasms she'd ever experienced.

"But, you've... not." Her voice was rough from exertion but the confusion was evident.

Rachel almost turned her head to look before she figured out what Quinn was awkwardly alluding to, "Yes. I have. I assure you."

"No..." Quinn pushed herself up to stand on quivering legs, taking first one, then two hesitant steps towards Rachel, her voice softening as she got closer until she could reach out and put a hand on the trembling back, "you haven't."

"Quinn...?" Rachel tensed, afraid. Quinn thought she was some man with a disturbing penchant for impersonating her who'd snuck in for a quicky with the head cheerleader. The fact that she was getting closer, pressing that warm lithe body against her back - Rachel could almost swear she could feel the heat of pale skin burning her even through her clothes - hands sliding over her decidedly unmasculine hips, just put that at risk. She didn't want the rejection when Quinn found out she'd just been fucked - she couldn't think of a more appropriate term for what she'd done to the blonde - by Rachel _Berry_. She just wanted to cling to the moment she'd been allowed to have.

"You know," Quinn's voice was soft in her ear in that deliciously breathy yet throaty way that always sent shivers down the smaller girl's spine, her breath hot against her skin, "for someone determined to take Broadway by storm, you're not a very convincing liar," nimble fingers unfastened the button of her cargos, letting the loose pants drop about her ankles and slid into the sides of her boxer-briefs, first caressing then undoing the buckles of the harness about her hips, " _Rachel_."

Rachel went completely still, her eyes wide and nostrils flaring slightly with shock as Quinn's hands caressed her body, pushing down the underwear and harness. She couldn't help but stare dumbfounded at the mirror reflecting her gradual exposure at the cheerleader's hands. The way those pale hands undid her shirt and slipped it from her shoulders as she trembled from a heady mixture of fear and arousal at the feeling of full lips nipping and suckling along her neck. How slender fingers coaxed the appliances from her chin and cheeks and slipped the compression tank from her torso before working at the duct tape holding down the edges of the band about her chest.

"Q-quinn..." She couldn't help the fear simmering in her voice, her eyes darting to the door.

Quinn looked up, dark hazel gaze raking hungrily over the nude body exposed to her, meeting her eyes through the mirror as she dropped the band, "What are you afraid of, _Rachel_? That someone will come in? You weren't so worried about that _earlier_ , were you."

Her lips descended to her neck again, tangling her fingers in her hair to pull her head to the side to give her better access, eyes watching with fascination how Rachel reacted in the mirror as she did. She cupped a breast with her free hand, deciding she quite liked how her pale fingers contrasted with the natural olive complexion of the smaller girl's skin and especially the feeling of the pebbly nipple seeming to tighten even harder against the palm of her hand.

"Q-quinn, please..." Rachel's voice was soft, almost timid.

"What, Rachel? Are you the only one who gets to take someone today? Is that it? Only _you_ ," her fingers slipped from the breast she'd been toying with, sliding down the muscled slope of Rachel's abdomen to brush against the smooth top of her mound, making the smaller girl shiver in her arms, "get to give pleasure? Wow, Rachel," Quinn cupped Rachel's heat, leaning up to run her tongue along the rim of the smaller girl's ear, "completely smooth. Kinky."

Rachel drew in a shuddering breath, already so close to the edge by the friction of the strap on against her clit, but Quinn refused to give her the pressure her body craved, "B-ballet..."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." Quinn's teeth nipped at the other girl's earlobe drawing a low groan from Rachel's lips.

"It's," she swallowed, tongue darting out to moisten dry lips, "It's for ballet, the... the leotards..."

"I suppose that makes sense," the blonde let a single finger slip between silken folds to dip into the pooling essence dripping out to slicken tanned thighs, "Oh, wow. You are so," her lips ghosted over Rachel's ear, " _wet_ for me, Rachel."

Rachel swallowed harshly, striving to keep her hips from bucking into the maddingly gentle touch the blonde was applying to her. "Q-quinn, _please_..." her voice came out as a pleading whine, she hated it, but she couldn't help it.

"Please, _what_ , Rachel? You were going to _deny_ me this," Quinn chuckled in her ear, "I think I deserve to take my time and enjoy it, don't you?" Rachel's eyes began to slip closed, "Oh, no no no, Rachel. I want you to watch this." She slid her other hand from Rachel's hair, down her body to part the smaller girl's folds, exposing her to the mirror as she brought up her other hand and set to circling her clit, "I want you to _watch_ me take you, Rachel."

Rachel whimpered and her head rolled back to rest on Quinn's shoulder, but her eyes never left the mirror. "Oh _God_ , please, Quinn, _please_ don't tease me..." the words came out as a soft groan and she couldn't help how her hips rolled up to meet Quinn's hands, "I'll... I'll watch, just please don't tease... _please_..."

Quinn smirked. She liked how the dynamic had changed - from her restraining herself at Rachel's command to the smaller girl nearly collapsing in need for her and _begging_ for release. Rachel _never_ begged, never groveled, never backed down. But she was begging now. And begging _her_. Not _Finn_ or _Puck_ or that insufferable excuse for an upperclassman _Jesse_. But _her_. _Quinn Fabray_.

It gave her an incredible sense of pride, a rush of emotion that sent warmth tingling from the center of her chest to the very tips of her fingers and toes. _She_ was the one whose name was being panted so deliciously. She was the one that short, neatly trimmed nails were clutching desperately at. She was the one who would have _all_ of Rachel.

And she loved it.

She loved that she was taking what none of the - obviously inferior - boys the diva had dated had even had a chance at. That she was the one bringing Rachel to near collapse. She loved all of it. Almost as much as she'd enjoyed giving herself to the diva - even if she'd made a studied effort at not letting her know she knew.

"Tell me what you want, Rachel," she whispered, sucking hard on the pulse throbbing in her neck to leave a dark mark, staking her claim on the smaller girl, "tell me and I'll give it to you."

Rachel was nearly sobbing with need, only barely managing to keep her eyes fixed on the mirror and the sight of slender fingers teasing and rolling her clit, speed changing just often enough to keep her on the edge but not let her go over. "I-inside, Quinn, _please_!"

"Do you want me to take you, Rachel?" Her breath on Rachel's neck felt like it was scalding hot against her sweat drenched skin, "Do you want me to make you _mine_? You have to tell me."

Rachel gasped, " _God_! Y-yes! Yes! Please! Anything! Take me, Quinn!" She sobbed out the words, hips bucking erratically to try and keep the blonde's touch where she needed it, "I'm yours. I'm yours. Take me. Please. _Please_..."

Quinn nodded, "Watch close, Rachel. I want you to see me take you. I want you to _see_ my fingers slide inside you and make you _mine_."

Rachel could only nod frantically, her eyes opened as wide as she could get them, focused on the attentions of Quinn's hands on the most intimate part of her body. Her hands clutched desperately at the cheerleader's hips, fisting in the pleats of her skirt. She needed this - needed _Quinn_ \- far more than she really wanted to admit. "P-please..."

Quinn didn't respond with words, just sliding her hand down to circle the rim of her pulsing entrance coating her fingers with the copious fluid there before sliding first one, then, not encountering an overly stiff resistance, two fingers into the girl in her arms, pressing deep. Rachel gasped at the sudden sensation of fullness, hips stilling for a moment in surprise, eyes wide and fixed on the sight of Quinn's fingers impaling her. Quinn waited a moment for Rachel to adjust to her before beginning to slide slowly in and out of her.

She didn't want to talk any more. She just wanted to watch the stunning sight of her her fingers slipping in and out of the wet heat at the very center of Rachel's being. She wanted to focus on the way those hot walls pulsed and gripped her fingers at once pulling her deeper and pushing her back out. She wanted to listen to nothing but the soft gasp and moans every move wrung from the diva's body and the quiet wet sound coming from their most intimate of meetings.

Quinn didn't know if she'd have more than this moment and she wanted to make it last, no matter how dirty and inappropriate the setting and situation may be. For this moment, Rachel was _hers_ , even if afterwards she would run back to one of her boys, for this single - _amazing_ \- moment, she belonged to Quinn. Completely. Quinn buried her face in Rachel's neck, hiding the flash of pain at the recognition that the moment would end from the other girl.

She twisted her wrist and her fingers brushed fleetingly against a rough patch inside of the other girl, making Rachel cry out and buck her hips. Intrigued, Quinn caught her lower lip between her teeth and deliberately brushed the spot again. Once more Rachel shuddered and bucked, her breath coming faster. Smiling with a combination of resigned anticipation of loss and pleasure at being able to do this to the girl she cared for, she slid her fingertips against the spot, rubbing it directly.

Rachel couldn't speak. All she could do was sob for breath and gasp out soft mewls and whimpers until Quinn found _that_ spot. The first time, she restrained herself to a low cry and an involuntary buck of her hips. The second time, the tremor ran through her entire body. The third time, her head fell back, her eyes rolled back and her mouth gaped to cry out but no sound could emerge. She tensed, poised on the edge, shuddering and trembling as if her muscles were all locked in a powerful electric current being emitted from Quinn's fingers.

Then all was white. She couldn't see. Could hear nothing but the throbbing rush of her blood in her ears. The only thing she could feel was those wonderful fingers continuing to slide against that all important spot as she quaked and shuddered into first one orgasm and then another. Until finally... nothing.

Quinn slowed and stilled, finally pulling out - feeling an acute sense of loss as she did - and wiping her slick fingers on her skirt before wrapping her arms around the limp girl in her arms. She'd heard of people passing out after sex, but she never thought she'd see it. Certainly never thought she'd be the _cause_. She slowly lowered to her knees, easing Rachel to the floor with her.

She knew she couldn't stay. Couldn't be caught with Rachel, no matter how much she might want to. It would ruin everything.

So she straightened her disheveled clothing and carefully redressed her passed out lover - she supposed she could call her that for now, even if she wouldn't be able to once she walked out of the room - removing the harness and accompanying toy altogether to make it easier. Standing and looking down on the sleeping girl, she hesitated a moment before jogging over to the trainer stand - wincing only slightly at the soreness between her legs - and jotting something on a piece of paper before heading over to slip it into the girl's pants pocket. Kneeling beside her, she pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before standing and striding out of the room to drop the binding, toy and appliances in Rachel's bag before hitting the showers and heading home.

* * *

Some time later, Rachel woke, spent and groggy on the weight room floor. "Quinn...?" She looked around, but couldn't find the blonde, feeling a terrible pain in her chest as she realized she was gone and she was alone.

"Well," she spoke softly to herself, swallowing back tears, "at least she didn't leave me naked. Small favors."

Getting to her feet, she straightened her clothes and shoved her hands in her pockets to slump out of the room. When her fingers encountered folded paper, she frowned pulling it out and unfolding it.

Peter -

Call me sometime?

(419) 555-5236

*heart* - Q

Rachel slipped the paper back into her pocket and headed back out with a much brighter smile and lighter feeling in her chest.


End file.
